


Fic: Precious Gollum -- RPS Band Fic AU

by space0bongo



Series: Band AUs [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space0bongo/pseuds/space0bongo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Band AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: Precious Gollum -- RPS Band Fic AU

**Precious Gollum**  
**by Nehal**  
**A/N: AU band fic -- written because I read Valiant Effort and fell in love**

 

The first time Viggo Mortensen deep throated a microphone was at an anti-Pinochet demonstration in Time Square. He had been eighteen, covered in war paint and wearing a Che Guevara style beret; and the microphone had loosened a lead filling and given him Septicaemia.

The second time Viggo Mortensen deep throated a microphone was at his farewell concert inside a grotty – but fashionable – nightclub in Liverpool. He had been thirty-two, topless and wearing his Fender; and three hours after the concert had to be rushed into hospital with e-coli.

The third time Viggo Mortensen deep throated a microphone was after being sacked as Killjoy’s manager. The high-profile split had rocked the music world but the declaration afterward dominated the headlines for years afterward. ‘Killjoy sacked me because I’m gay,’ Mortensen had snarled at the press when Orlando was fifteen and thinking about coming out. Needless to say, that quote had stopped Orlando in his tracks.

\--

Precious Gollum had formed as an idea when Orlando was fourteen and playing bass for Rent Boy –- a Nirvana tribute band that played the pub circuit in rural Kent. However it took five years and a tenure with the London Philharmonic Orchestra before Orlando managed to put pen to paper and realise his idea.

Dom had joined first. An out of work child star by day, Dom was a saxophone player at night and played at some of the best jazz clubs in the northwest. It was in one of these clubs, a grotty basement in Liverpool that once hosted the Beetles, where Orlando had met Dom. Orlando was almost twenty-one and toying with the idea of coming out; Dom was nearly twenty-two and had a plaster cast around his jaw.

“That must hurt,” Orlando had winced sympathetically when Dom joined him at the bar. “Want a pint?”  
Dom had mumbled an affirmative and after five pints bundled himself and three bags (all containing musical instruments) into Orlando’s van.

\--

Precious Gollum was nearly a year old before Billy finally accepted Orlando’s invitation to join the band. Billy was thirty, five foot five, and had a stage school education that prevented him from making it anywhere that counted in the music industry. Billy was the backing singer who everyone heard but only Orlando listened to. Billy, in Orlando’s opinion, was God.

“I’m sick of them,” Billy had said with two cigarettes in his mouth as he and Orlando talked on the patio. “I’m sick of people telling me I can’t cut it because I don’t have the look or the voice or the fucking height –- like that has shit all to do with music. It’s got to do with this,” Billy tapped a finger against his heart before focussing narrowed eyes at Orlando. “There’s no point playing music if you can’t feel it.”

“I know,” Orlando had whispered with a quirk to his lips. “It’s all about the music, I understand.”

Dom had joined them later with a bag of pot and three Page Three models –- one for each of them. Orlando got an almond-eyed German girl with red hair that fell in corkscrew curls to pointy breasts that smelled of cloves. Her name was Franka and as Orlando gave her a half-hearted blowjob she gave him her boyfriend’s number.

“He’s a drummer,” Franka had said proudly. “Every band needs a drummer, right? And Elijah’s better than Ringo, better than God –- you have to listen to him.”

\--

The first time Elijah auditioned for Precious Gollum, Orlando had barely noticed him. He had noticed Stuart though. Stuart was tall and thin with sleepy eyes and silver tracks on his arms; he looked frail but played with more energy than Orlando had ever seen outside of a gig. It was no coincidence that the three months that Stuart spent with Precious Gollum were the band’s best, creatively speaking. Billy and Orlando wrote sixteen songs each; Dom quit pot in order to focus on getting his saxophone just right and Stuart –- Stuart played as though each set was his last. The band, as Orlando imagined it, was formed.

The second time Elijah auditioned for Precious Gollum, Orlando was too angry with Stuart to notice. It had been Billy, with an uncharacteristic softness about his eyes, who pointed Elijah out to the others.

“He’s good.” Billy had said and when Dom agreed Orlando snapped at Elijah to play again.

The third time Elijah auditioned for Precious Gollum; Orlando received a text message from Stuart. It said ‘Sorry’ and Orlando was so angry he threw his phone at Elijah and knocked out a tooth.

The fourth time that Elijah auditioned for Precious Gollum was a charm, and Elijah smiled a blood soaked (gap toothed) smile when Orlando congratulated him on getting the job.

\--

Precious Gollum was three years old before a label approached them. Perceval Press had started in Los Angeles as an independent publishing house, but sought to expand their repertoire. Precious Gollum was just one of the Indie bands doing the London club circuit that had been invited to audition, but they were the only English one.

“Fucking yanks,” Billy had muttered as soon as they entered the Selfridge –- where Perceval Press had hired out a room for them to audition. “What kind of Indie label holds rehearsals on fucking Oxford Street?”

“Obviously an American one,” Elijah had replied in his laconic but not quite Californian accent, and Dom had told them both to ‘shut the fuck up’ before running to the nearest toilet. Orlando was calm, as he always was before an important gig, and adjusted his too-straight hair so it fell artfully about his shoulders. The PR representative arrived not long after Dom returned and introduced herself with a quick nod.

“If you guys follow me I’ll introduce you to Viggo and we can get started.”

Orlando froze at the mention of Viggo’s name but Elijah pushed him to keep going with an annoyed expression on his face.

\--

The first time Orlando met Viggo Mortensen, Viggo wore old-man glasses and a green cardigan. He had a bottle of whiskey by his feet and was smoking two cigarettes –- one in each hand.

“You guys are ‘Precious Gollum, right?” Viggo had asked, sea-blue eyes lingering on Dom as they examined the group. “I’m Viggo. Do you guys have a copy of the songs you’re going to sing?”

“Only excerpts,” Billy said carefully as he handed Viggo a sheet of A4 with Orlando’s handwriting scrawled over it.

“Cool.” Viggo smiled, glancing at the excerpts. “Begin when you’re ready,” He said, smiling at the group and Orlando walked quickly to his instrument. It was a bright blue Fender with Viggo’s name scrawled across the front in black marker. Elijah whispered something about Viggo not being half the man he was, but Orlando ignored him in favour of tuning the Fender.

The second time Orlando met Viggo Mortensen, Viggo still wore old-man glasses and a green cardigan. Instead of a bottle of whiskey he had a glass but he still had two cigarettes on the go; and he still looked at Dom more than the others. They were inside a seedy Manchester club –- one of Precious Gollum’s first gigs under Perceval Press.

“You guys were amazing,” He said with the husky-rich tone that brought back Orlando’s childhood spent lying in his bedroom with a Viggo Mortensen LP and a cheap Fender. Orlando had memorised all of the words (and riffs) of all of Viggo Mortensen’s songs by the time he was twelve. “Especially you,” Viggo smiled at Dom. “I love the intensity of your saxophone.”

“Thanks,” Dom had replied nonchalantly before dragging Elijah and Billy to the bar. Orlando, who did not drink, stayed with Viggo.

“Did you like all of it?” Orlando had asked when the silence became oppressive. “Even the riffs?”

“I would have told you if I hadn’t, Orlando.” Viggo had smiled turning to face him with an enigmatic smile. “And the riffs were good –- a little understated, sure; but they suited the song.”

“You were my inspiration, you know.” Orlando had said because there was nothing else to say. “Well, not you per se, but the Purple Album. I learned how to play guitar because of that LP.”

Viggo had smiled then –- a real smile with teeth and dimples -- and told Orlando that the Purple Album was a ‘pile of shit’.

The third time Orlando met Viggo Mortensen, Viggo wore his old-man glasses and a green cardigan. He had two bottles of whiskey by his bare feet and an unlit cigarette in his hand. It was the day after the First Album launch and Orlando had wrangled Viggo’s address from a star struck secretary.

“Elijah thinks you’re a has-been,” Orlando got straight to the point. “Dom thinks you mean well, and I never know what Billy thinks.”

“What do you think?” Viggo asked quietly and Orlando shrugged.

“I think you may have ruined my life,” Orlando said quietly and sat next to Viggo on the couch.

“I couldn’t have,” Viggo had smiled, reaching into his pocket for his lighter. “I didn’t know you ‘til a year ago. You want a fag?” He offered Orlando his box of Marlborough’s and waggled pale eyebrows.

“Maybe,” Orlando had replied without taking a cigarette.

\--

Precious Gollum was five years old when Orlando was finally outed by the Sun –- they had headlined a grainy holiday shot of he and Stuart walking hand-in-hand on a Hawaiian beach. Not long afterward the Precious Gollum Fan Club posted every lyric that Orlando had ever written –- and the vast majority of diehard Precious Gollum fans kicked themselves for not noticing earlier.

\--  
fin


End file.
